


Gonna Stand There

by badjujuboo (miztrezboo)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Boys Kissing, M/M, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-19
Updated: 2014-10-19
Packaged: 2018-02-21 18:06:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2477537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miztrezboo/pseuds/badjujuboo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Louis' fault. Most things are. Though it's all Liam's truths that are spilled when Harry has to fix him up.</p><p>or the fic from anons tumblr prompt - Lirry "Are you bleeding?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gonna Stand There

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote most of this then lost it because the tumblr app ate it.. i hate you ipad and your ability to just RANDOMLY close and open apps like that. Sorry about the wait Nonny! Hope it was worth it

It was all Louis' fault.

Generally, when it came to these things, it was _always_ Louis' fault.

It was that time of the tour though, when boredom took hold and instead of sitting around and chilling between shows, Louis' foot would start tapping and Liam would crack his knuckles too much and they'd catch each other's eyes and be off and up and outside to make mischief of one kind or another.

Tonight started out as a reccy of the Stadium they would be playing at later that night. Much later, seeing as it was a little after two in the morning when the bus rolled in from some city to another that Liam was going to have to learn the name of later, purely so he could tell them that _they_ (above all others) were absolutely, positively the _loudest_ of all this tour. Everyone knew it was a lie, but it was a thing that he did so it would be weird if he didn't. 

They'd managed to duck out undetected by a busy Paul and a sleeping Paddy, Alberto was taking his nightly shit so that meant he'd be indisposed for at least an hour by the size of the book he took with him to the bogs. They'd got off pretty much scot free, and made a run for a fenced off area that looked to be interesting. Or so Louis thought, Liam followed purely because that's what he did in cases such as these. 

They'd wandered about in the dark, lit only by the half moon above until they'd got a little listless with that, Louis starting up a game of Hide and Seek that Liam didn't even think to back out of. Yes, he had his arm in a cast, but it was coming off soon, so it didn't really matter (another three weeks and four days, but who was counting? Not Liam. He'd become quite good at tossing off with his left hand, thanks very much). 

Really, it was more like a game of Chasey than anything else, because every time they found each other, they'd just run ahead, blindly going around corners and up and over stairs and things. It's when Liam's cackling, having just run out of reach of Louis' hands that he falls and there's a loud shout from around the bend. He manages to twist his body so his cast doesn't meet the ground, but his other side, shoulder and face does. He doesn't have time to think about it really, with Louis shouting, "The jig is up, sirs!" in his posh voice - the one he uses to take the mick out of Harry - and then he's off, leaving Liam to fend for himself in the proverbial dust he leaves behind him. The torches are getting brighter and the shouts louder as Liam gets to his feet. He's running in the direction of where he hopes their buses are, knowing Louis will get there first and be holding the gates open as far as he can so Liam can slip out as easily as he had slipped in before. 

He gives the security lads that are obviously not on their payroll the slip, finding Louis exactly where he knew he'd be with a bloody great smile on his face, the bugger. They say nothing as they jog quietly back to where the buses are, Louis slapping Liam on the bum quick before disappearing inside Bus One. Probably going to wind down the rest of the night smoking up with Zayn and playing FIFA until he passes out. Nothing out of the norm. Liam gently opens the door to Bus Two, knowing that Niall will be asleep and Harry probably tucked up in his bunk also. 

They all have different ways to deal with the monotony that tour eventually becomes. Even with the breaks they've worked in this time, the same old same old of performing, being stuck in a hotel and travel takes its toll. Louis gets restless, either taking it out on Liam with reccy's and things or getting high with Zayn who eventually appears from pouring over whatever novel takes his interest at the time. Niall sleeps or golfs or tweets and buzzes around like a bloody fly, hardly ever sitting still. Harry. . . well, Liam's not sure of what Harry does. He's been a bit out of touch with Harry of late. Slightly out of sync, if truth be told, and Liam isn't sure what he's done, or how to fix it.

See, Liam had thought they were getting closer, were finally slotting proper into each others lives with how well things went when they were in South America. They'd slipped out of their hotels a few times, ducked around crowds of girls and their security wearing nothing but ratty clothes, baseball caps and cheap aviators they bought on the street. They were the only two to get up early enough to make the trip to Machu Picchu - Niall wanted to, but there was still concern about his knee so he had to stay behind. They'd shared something, all the way up there in the quiet, the almost mystical silence that the old ruins provided, mist over mountains and forests so green as far as the eye could see. They'd lounged about at the pool together, got drunk together, maybe had a cheeky snog or two when they'd said goodnight at each others doors. 

Then they'd had a break and it was different when they'd come back together once more. The thing is, they're never really all out of touch. A text here, a phone call there, even a snap chat of stupid things (which Liam still doesn't understand how to use, no matter how many times Louis' tried to show him). They're always in contact, never really gone from each others minds. 

He hadn't heard a thing from Harry. Not a word.

It'd made things a bit weird when they'd started up with their North America tour dates. A little harder to play off each other, to find that rhythm that they'd seemed to work so flawlessly further south. There's this tenuous _thing_ between them and Liam isn't sure which way it's going to go in the end. They'll either blow up and argue about whatever it is or . . . well, Liam isn't sure what the other side to this will be. Mostly, he's hoping that with time it'll all sort itself out.

It's why he's extra quiet as he makes his way down the bus, seeing one of the lights on in the kitchen makes him smile. It's probably Paddy, he'll be wanting to tear strips off him for buggering off without letting them know his whereabouts. Liam can handle Paddy. He'll just buy him another bottle of scotch when they hit the next town. He smiles though, when he turns the corner and finds Harry curled up on the bench, cup of milky tea in hand from the smell of things, curls loose around his shoulders as he stares out the window. They're a bit messed up, sticking up here and there like he'd run his hands through them a few too many times.

"Can't sleep?" Liam calls out as he toes his shoes off. 

Harry yelps, spilling tea down his bare chest, putting his mug down and grabbing at some tissues to soak the mess up. 

"Fucking hell, Liam! You're lucky that I'd nearly finished that and it wasn't that hot!" He frowns, as Liam apologises, grabbing a roll of paper towel to wrap around his free hand, heading to the sink to wet it. 

When Liam turns back, Harry's got his feet on the ground and Liam kneels between them getting a better look at Harry's chest. There's only a slight pink tinge to his skin, so Harry's right, Liam _is_ lucky the tea wasn't that hot. He clucks anyway as Liam presses the cool cloth to his chest, chuckling as Harry's nipples harden with the new touch. There's a joke to be said here, or something, but before Liam can get a word out, Harry's breathing in harsh, twisting Liam's face to the side with a tight grip on his chin.

"Liam, shit. Are you bleeding?" 

Liam hums, trying to look out the corner of his eye but he can't see anything but Harry's face closeup. There's a line between his brows and his lashes are full and dark as they hide the green of Harry's stare. "I don't know. I fell over a bit, but I made sure not to hit my cast,"

Harry's eyes roll and he snorts, taking the paper towel from Liam's hand and folding it in half. "Of course you'd bloody smash your face into the concrete to save your arm."

"Cast comes off soon," Liam says, because Harry's tutting as he pats gently over Liam's forehead, where yes, he can actually feel a little throbbing and something sticky and warm on his cheek, too. Maybe he'd fallen a little harder than he'd thought. 

"Will stay on longer if you don't look after yourself," Harry says softly, concentrating now on where he's wiping blood from Liam's brow. "There's a cut there, but I think we've got some of those strip things to close it up. I know you don't want me waking Paddy for this. Paul will kill all three of us if we have to call a doctor in."

Liam sighs, patting at Harry's thigh with his hand and leaving it there for something to lean on. "You can be my doctor, right, Harry? Fix me up good as new?"

Harry's lips quirk up on one side as he sighs. "Good as new. Sure." He sucks in a breath like he's going to say something more, but shakes his curls back instead. "Should probably make Louis do this. Seeing as he's the one that always gets you into these things. Breaking your arm, breaking your face. He'll have you breaking your neck next if you're not careful."

"Louis doesn't _make_ me do these things, Haz. He wasn't even around when I busted my arm. That was all me. I can make stupid decisions on my own." Liam snaps, pulling out of Harry's touch. Of course their first real proper interaction outside being onstage is this. They all have these little niches, these spaces that they fill with one another and Liam's always thought that Harry didn't like how he seemed to replace the partner in crime thing that Louis and Harry had shared before. He never said anything about it, but he'd noticed the pout Harry would get sometimes when Louis invited Liam out and not Harry. He never said anything about Niall and Harry having their golf thing, only having invited Liam that once. He wasn't _great_ at golf, and it wasn't really his sport, but he liked that they'd asked. 

"If you wanted to come with us once in a while, you could. Louis wouldn't mind. I can share, Harry."

Harry's hand slips over Liam's shoulder, holding him still. "That's the problem," Harry says and Liam shakes his head. His stomach is filled with this gigantic knot and he's not certain if it's from how gently Harry was treating him before, or how odd Harry sounds now or if it's just from this proximity of Harry now. Of having Harry's undivided attention for what feels like the first time in so long.

"What's the problem?" Liam asks with a frown, only to gasp because, fuck, he really did smash up his face and doing anything with his eyebrows hurts now. 

"I don't want to share, alright? I don't want to share _you_. And I know it makes me sound like this gigantic dickhead, but it is what it is," he leans back, tilting his head up and looking at the roof, cheeks flushed pink. 

Liam isn't sure what to think of this outburst. "But you've been avoiding me. Ever since we left South America, you didn't call or anything during break and then you've pretty much secluded yourself from me whenever we have downtime. Even tonight you disappeared without a sound!"

"Because I knew you'd be off with Lou! I knew he'd call and you'd go running after him and you wouldn't want to be doing anything with me when there was something to do with Lou. It's stupid and it's childish but for once I'd like you to seek me out, you know? Like, come and see if I want to do anything before you just jump up at Louis' beck and call."

"I am not his bloody lapdog, Haz," Liam says, feeling himself getting a bit stroppy about all of this. Harry's making him sound like he can't think for himself. That he just blindly follows and that's not what it is at all. "I do things with Louis because they're fun and because he asks and it's what we do when we're on tour. It takes his mind off how far away from home we are and mucking around like we did tonight is something he'd probably do with his sisters if he was at home. It's not always about me being bored, I do it for him. If you needed something the way he does, I'd do it for you, too. But you never ask. You do things with Niall and you play with Lux or go out with Louise. It's fine. We all have our ways of dealing with this life of ours."

"You never ask. The only time you've ever asked me to do things with you, I've said yes and then when I asked you you said no. So, I just. . . I just thought you didn't want me around." Harry looks down now, between his knees and possibly at a stain of some description - probably sauce from lunch - on Liam's shirt. His curls cover his eyes, but Liam can still see the rosy tint to his cheeks. That all of this honesty is costing Harry to admit. 

"When, when did I ever say no?" Liam asks, a little gobsmacked because he can't recall a single time. He's always up for a bit of fun, especially when they're on tour. Anything to break the same old same old.

"When we were leaving South America, yeah? I asked you if you wanted to come and stay at the new house and you said no."

"I said no because I'd already made plans with mum and dad! I didn't say never, I just said not then. Christ, Harry. Is this why you've been ignoring me? Do you know how shit that is? How shit that's made me feel?"

"Probably as shit as I do," Harry says with a wry grin, looking up at Liam from under dark lashes. "I just don't know how to be around you without wanting more. I thought I had it figured out in Brazil but I don't think that worked, either. I want more, Liam. I always want more and I don't think you can give me what I want." 

His shoulders sag and he looks sort of deflated, meanwhile Liam feels bouyed by this information. That Harry sounds as if he was or is on the same page as Liam. This inbetween of wanting more than just the cheeky snog and hanging out as mates that they were on the precipice of changing before. 

He takes Harry's hand in his good one, puts the pink tinged paper towel to the side and leans up on his knees, squeezing their fingers together. It's like this tiny conversation, this admittence of feeling more than what they probably would have any other time, has loosened something inside Liam's chest. That part he kept locked away, the part labelled, "you can't want Harry as much as he wants you. You can't have _everything_ Liam James Payne. You are not allowed," it's chains are breaking and the possibility of it all becoming reality is flooding out.

He brushes Harry's curls away from his face with his bad hand, strands getting caught on the ratty edges near his fingertips but it just makes Harry turn into his touch. He can feel the sting of the cut on his brow shifting as he grins, but he's happy. Happier than he was minutes before. Happier than he's been in a while by Harry's revelations alone - as toddler like as some of them have been.

"You don't think I want more? You don't think I've thought about all those times we kissed in Sao Paolo, in Brazil, that time after the pool was closed and we floated about snogging like we were bloody Romeo and Juliet in that movie?" 

Harry huffs, but a grin spreads across his red lips as he does so, ruining the affect. 

"I don't know what you want, Li."

"I want you, you daft git. I've wanted you for so bloody long but I didn't know how to ask. You never show that much interest in me and when you do, it's like staring into the sun and then when you're gone I'm on the bloody dark side of the moon, hoping for a bit of starlight to keep me warm," Liam says honestly, truly, and frowns a bit when Harry laughs.

"You've been smoking up with Zayn too much, listen to you. Like a bloody poet you are." he says, rubbing his cheek into Liam's covered palm. He blinks slow, looking up at Liam and Liam shifts in close as Harry pulls their joined hands toward himself. 

The tip of his nose presses light against Harry's, and he can almost taste the sweet milky tea, that Harry was drinking before as it plays between them on every breath out of Harry's mouth. 

"'s true though. I just don't know how to be around you and not want to do more. To kiss you, kiss you proper," Liam has no idea where these words are coming from, only he can't stop saying them now he's started. He tugs on one of Harry's curls that's caught between his forefinger and thumb. "Touch your hair, your lips, hold you close and press my mouth to your skin to see if you taste as warm as you always look."

Harry closes his eyes and groans, "Fuck, Liam. You can stop. You can't say these things and-"

"Not mean them?" Liam interupts, raising his good brow. "Harry, It's all I want."

Harry whispers Liam's name under his breath before he's right there in Liam's face and kissing him hard and fast. This isn't the slopppy snogs they'd shared just inside the privacy of hotel room doors or the tongue filled lazy kisses that they traded in the pool that night. This is all the things Liam's been saying and that Harry admitted to wanting as much as Liam has done. This is "I want you, too," and Liam's answering "so much, so much."

Liam tangles his fingertips in Harry's hair, tilts his face a little so that he can fit his mouth better to Harry's and they only stop kissing when they both forget about the cut on Liam's brow and find some new hurt that had gone unnoticed under Liam's shirt. Harry's wandering hands on Liam's ribs having found a graze from where he fell at the begining of all of this. 

Harry shakes his head as Liam leans back, tugging at the hem of his shirt. 

"That, is going to require looking at, Liam James Payne," Harry says clucking his tongue.

Liam grins, because it's so Harry to sound a little like Liam's mum, pulling his whole name out just so he knows he's in a little bit of trouble. It's a level of concern that isn't new on Harry, but means a bit more knowing that Harry's saying it more like a boyfriend than a friend that's a boy. But Liam's jumping ahead of himself. They've only just scratched the surface of admitting what they want from each other. No need for labels yet. Or at all. 

Liam wants one though, but they'll talk about that later. After Doctor Harry has patched him up.

That, Liam is certain of.


End file.
